


Rebuilding

by JenNova



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Hand Job, Healing, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28812771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenNova/pseuds/JenNova
Summary: “My name is Din Djarin,” had been the first thing he’d said when Cobb opened his door to him that ordinary evening a few months after the Mandalorian had helped them kill a dragon.Cobb had taken him in slowly; that beskar armour looking a lot more scuffed than he’d have thought possible, the half torn cape hanging at his back, some kinda of spear alongside the rifle on his back and no satchel over his shoulder to hide a little one in.Even if it hadn’t been for that Cobb would’ve known something had happened by the slumped slope of the man’s shoulders - the confident tall posture of someone who knows exactly who they are and their purpose in life replaced by hunching of his back, a hanging of his head, like he was trying to impact the world as little as possible.Cobb has all the patience in the world for helping Din to heal.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 48
Kudos: 306





	Rebuilding

**Author's Note:**

> *dusts off AO3 account* *taps mic* Is this thing on?
> 
> I jest but it really has been around 7 years since I've finished anything at all thanks to brain raccoons so I'm happy to be back!
> 
> Beta credit to my dearest Loz, fandom BFF of more than a decade.

Cobb had told himself he was never gonna get this in an effort to stop himself from hoping too hard. No-one survives the kinda life he had without learning how to keep their hope banked as low embers, safely tucked away in a corner of the heart that no-one can reach.

Maybe that’s why it feels so unreal that Din is kissing him; their lips sliding together like it was always meant to be, the slight nip of Din’s teeth at Cobb’s bottom lip, the soothing swipe of Din’s tongue after the bite. Cobb can’t seem to let go of Din’s head, fingers twisted into soft brown hair, tilting him until Cobb has the perfect angle to sweep his tongue in and stroke it against Din’s. Din makes a soft noise in his throat and his fingers flex on Cobb’s hips where he’s holding him against the wall.

Cobb can’t even remember how they got to this, more points in favour of this being one of the good dreams, but he doesn’t want to ask in case it stops. Now that he’s finally tasted Din he’s never gonna let him go again, even if it means following him into the stars.

\--

“My name is Din Djarin,” had been the first thing he’d said when Cobb opened his door to him that ordinary evening a few months after the Mandalorian had helped them kill a dragon.

Cobb had taken him in slowly; that beskar armour looking a lot more scuffed than he’d have thought possible, the half torn cape hanging at his back, some kinda of spear alongside the rifle on his back and no satchel over his shoulder to hide a little one in.

Even if it hadn’t been for that Cobb would’ve known something had happened by the slumped slope of the man’s shoulders - the confident tall posture of someone who knows exactly who they are and their purpose in life replaced by hunching of his back, a hanging of his head, like he was trying to impact the world as little as possible.

Cobb had blown out a breath and reached out a hand slowly to put on the Mandalorian’s – no - _Djarin’s_ shoulder. When Djarin allowed the touch Cobb stepped forward and ducked his head a little to look into the visor of the helmet at roughly where he figured Djarin’s eyes would be.

“Reckon you could use a drink, partner,” Cobb had said, squeezing Djardn’s shoulder above the pauldron where the flightsuit underneath showed through.

Djarin had made a cut off sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and leaned into Cobb’s hand before following him inside.

–

Cobb breaks the kiss so that he can mouth over the jawline he’s been imagining since the first time he saw Din, the scruffy hair of Din’s beard is surprisingly soft against his lips and he realises with a smile that _that’s_ the reason some of his grooming pomade’s been going missing, until he reaches the hinge of his jaw and can set his teeth there for a moment.

Din twitches and leans into him harder, one leg slipping between Cobb’s and his hands sliding under Cobb’s shirt to press against skin. Despite rarely seeing Din without gloves his hands aren’t soft, still roughened by a lifetime of wielding weapons. The gentle touches make Cobb shiver and tremble, pushing his hips instinctively against Din’s thigh to seek friction for his slowly hardening cock. Din pushes back and Cobb can feel the hard, thick line of Din’s cock against him, and it thrills him a little to know he can turn Din on so much with a handful of kisses.

Cobb finally manages to let go of Din’s head, though one hand only moves as far as the back of his neck to ground Din against him, and wastes no time in getting the other hand under the loose shirt Din wears when he’s at home with Cobb. He presses his fingers in against muscles hardened from carrying armour and feels Din’s moan against his lips where he’s pressing open mouthed kisses to his throat.

–

It took more than a few days, a few drinks and a few aborted conversations before Cobb had got the full story out of Djarin of what had happened. He’d known about the quest from the quiet conversation they’d had before settling down at the Tusken camp that night but there’d just not been enough time to talk more afterward.

Heard from the beginning it sounded like one of the stories he has distant memories of his mother telling him. Or like that wild rumour about one of the other slave kids being freed by a Jedi after winning a podrace that went around Mos Epsa back in the day. Except this was real, he could tell, because Djarin’s voice got quieter and quieter in the telling, rolling the little ball off the end of a shifter rod ‘round and ‘round in his hand.

Poor guy was a mess, and Cobb could sympathise on hearing what he’d been through in such a short amount of time, and clearly needed time to get his head on straight and somewhere safe to do it. Cobb tried to not let it go to his heart that Djarin had found his way back to him when he needed a safe haven, but it was hard to stop his heartbeat from quickening when he could feel the man watching him through the visor.

“You need a place to stay, or even just somewhere to come back to,” Cobb leaned forward in his seat to try and catch those eyes he couldn’t see. “You got one here. Not even because of what you done for us. They’re starting to call this place Freetown and I figure you fit right in with all the other waifs and strays we got, Djarin.”

It was like something lifted off of those plated shoulders and for the first time in days Cobb saw a glimpse of the man that’d captured his imagination all those months back. It opened a tiny crack in his heart on something he wasn’t exactly ready to start thinking about, now that the Mandalorian was back.

“Thank you, Vanth,” Djarin said and Cobb was kind enough and had been through enough himself to not mention the wobble in his voice that his vocoder couldn’t hide.

–

“Do you want to -” Cobb asks the words into the dip of Din’s collarbone and before he’s even finished Din is pulling him away from the wall and walking Cobb unerringly towards Cobb’s room. It’s a reminder of the strength contained in that body Cobb likes to watch so much, all those coiled muscles just waiting for Din to act.

“Take that as a yes,” Cobb says, pushing both hands under Din’s shirt as Din backs him through the door. Cobb has imagined a thousand different variations of getting Din into his bed but not a one of them hold a candle to the real thing. Din presses their foreheads together before stepping back enough to grab his shirt and pull it off over his head. Cobb just wants to look at that expanse of skin for all the hours the day can send him but Din is already reaching out to tug at Cobb’s shirt in turn.

“Gotta warn you, I’m not working with anything like you’re working with,” Cobb says shucking his shirt over his head. Din honest to Maker rolls his eyes at Cobb and scoffs, stepping back into Cobb’s space and bending his head to kiss the scar over Cobb’s heart.

“You’re perfect,” Din mutters into Cobb’s skin before kissing him again, and it’s said so sternly that Cobb has to stifle a laugh even as his insides feel like they turn into liquid.

–

There was nothing the battered old folks of Freetown liked to do better than swap stories over spotchka at the end of the mining week. Cobb knew that if he got anywhere near them they’d drag him in and he’d be lucky if he could stand by the end of the night. Normally he wouldn’t mind, worse ways to spend an evening, but in the little over a month that Djarin had been there he’d stuck pretty close to Cobb and he figured the Mandalorian probably wasn’t up for it.

Imagine Cobb’s surprise then, when he came out of the cantina after checking in with Ishma that there was no trouble brewing, he found Djarin sitting with old timers and _making them laugh_. Cobb leant against the wall to listen, watching Djarin talk, and found himself caught up in a story about a bounty whose repeated failed attempts to escape would’ve made for a pretty funny holofilm.

He honestly didn’t know what to be more surprised by – Djarin turning out to be a good storyteller or Djarin willingly offering up a bit of his past. He supposed it made sense, in a way, he knew Djarin had other friends out there in the galaxy and they probably weren’t all just half-century old fools falling for a pretty set of armour and the man cradled within. He had to win them over somehow.

“Hey, Marshal!” Old Ghent wheezed, waving her arm at him – prosthetic must be hurting again for her to have it off and Cobb made a mental note to barter for more of that salve from the Tuskens that helped so much last time. “Come tell your _partner_ about that time you got into it with the wrong guys up in Eisley.”

“Nah, I don’t think he wants to hear that old story,” Cobb said, ignoring the way the back of his neck flushed at the way Ghent said ‘partner’. He pushed himself off the wall and joined the circle. He’d swear he could feel Djarin’s stare boring holes into him through the impassive face of the helmet.

“I think I’d like to hear,” Djarin said, tilting his head, and it made something in Cobb warm to note that he didn’t say anything about the use of partner either. Cobb huffed out a laugh and sank down onto the bench next to Djarin, holding his hand out to Ghent for a glass of spotchka.

And so he told the old story about a version of himself he wasn’t even sure he recognised anymore that started in a junkyard looking for speeder parts and ended up with him hightailing it half way across Mos Eisley, clothes clutched in his arms, chased by a gang of Devaronians whose boss’ mistress he’d been caught getting frisky with.

“Injury to insult,” Cobb said, feeling a little high on the laughs his tale was drawing out of Djarin, “when I finally made it back to my speeder I was in such a hurry to pull my kit back on that I tripped over my own pants and cut myself open on the exact part I’d come to town to find. Got me a nice little scar, right over my heart, to remind myself of the whole misadventure,” he added, undoing a button of his shirt and pulling the collar down to show the bolt shaped scar.

His skin prickled when he noticed the tilt of Djarin’s head stayed aimed at his chest for a while after he’d done it back up.

–

Din’s hands slide around Cobb’s pants, plucking impatiently at the waistband, and Cobb finds himself smiling into another of Din’s hungry kisses. He catches Din’s hands and pulls them away so he can hook his own thumbs into the waistband and slip them over his hips, gravity doing the rest of the job. Din’s hands are immediately back on his hips, thumbs rubbing over newly revealed flesh, and Cobb feels hot all over.

“You too, darlin’,” he says, breaking a kiss so he can lean in and speak the words into Din’s ear. “Want to see all a’you.”

Din honest to Maker shivers at the term of endearment that slipped out and Cobb makes a note to circle back ‘round to that. Din steps back and pulls off his pants and unders with swift, economical movements. Cobb swallows against his suddenly dry throat, eyes drawn to where Din’s cock is curving up toward his abdomen - a little shorter than Cobb’s but thicker too and Cobb just wants to get his hands and mouth all over it.

“ _Stars_ ,” Cobb breathes, looking up to meet Din’s eyes ( _Din’s eyes_ ) and swallowing again at the hunger there. “You’re _lovely_.”

Din shuffles his feet slightly awkwardly at the compliment and ducks his head, rubs at the back of his neck nervously. Cobb reminds himself that back when this started Din had told him it’d been a while since he’d been with anyone like this and tries to rein in some of the lust burning under his skin. He steps forward and reaches a hand out to one of Din’s.

“Can I?” he asks, fingers very lightly touching the back of Din’s hand. The hand twitches slightly then moves to grasp his, fingers twisting together.

“Anything,” Din says, tugging him closer and resting his forehead against Cobb’s. Cobb brings Din’s hand up to his mouth and presses a kiss to the battered knuckles.

“Going to make sure this is real good for ya,” Cobb says before using his nose to nudge Din up into another, gentler kiss. “Lay down.”

–

It’d been two months of Djarin shadowing him, learning what it was Cobb did now they didn’t have to worry about the Tuskens or the Krayt dragon, before Cobb noticed that the folk of Mos Pelgo had taken to calling him ‘Deputy’ for lack of any other name.

Jo was the first one who said it while Cobb was there, Djarin had offered to help her refine some of her mining chargers for preciser detonations while Cobb had been on the other side of town fixing the latest vaporator to go down.

“Hey Marshal,” Jo smiled as Cobb joined her in her workshop. “Deputy’s just using the ‘fresher, won’t be a moment.”

Cobb’s hand froze in the air where he was reaching for one of the new detonators she’d been talking about in the cantina a few nights previous.

“D-deputy?” he asked, feeling the back of his neck flush at the way his voice cracked on the word.

“Well, we gotta call him something, Vanth,” Jo said, grinning at the presumably stunned expression on his face. “Folk can’t go around calling him ‘the Marshal’s partner’ all the time. Man’s a person in his own right even if he don’t have a face.”

“I -” now Cobb knew his face was visibly reddening, mortifying for a man who’d survived to his age on Tatooine. “That’s not – we haven’t exactly – aw, hells, Jo.”

Jo was now openly laughing at him, clutching her sides with it, and Cobb found himself sort of hopelessly smiling at her, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. She wiped an actual tear of laughter from her face and reached out to squeeze his arm.

“I’m just making fun,” she said, before tugging him down to her level and whispering: “But if you don’t lock ‘im down soon you’re gonna have competition from half the eligibles in town. There’s a statue o’ limitations on these things and it’s quick runnin’ out.”

“Jo -” whatever Cobb was going to say was lost in Djarin’s return. Cobb’s attention snapped to him automatically and he caught Jo’s over the top wink from the corner of his eye. His cheeks felt like they were burning.

“Are you okay?” Djadin asked, stepping lightly across to him, helmet tilted in the way that meant he was looking hard at Cobb. He pulled a glove off and laid the back of his hand against Cobb’s forehead. “Were you in the sun too long? Your skin is hot.”

Jo made strangled noise, half shriek and half stifled laugh, and Cobb shot her a look as he stepped back from Djardn’s touch, desperately trying not to memorise the feel of their skin touching.

“It’s nothing a little water won’t fix,” Cobb said, clearing his throat. “How about we get an early lunch from Ishma?”

“Of course,” Djarin said, and was it Cobb’s imagination or did his hand hang in the air for longer than it should? Like its owner had only just realised what he’d done.

Jo winked again as they left, giving him a low thumbs up out of Djarin’s eyeline, and mouthed _lock him down_.

–

Once Cobb gets Din on the bed Din seems to relax again and Cobb joins him, stretching himself alongside Din on his side and not quite touching. He knows from experience that it can be overwhelming to be touched when you’ve gone a long time without it and he doesn’t want to push Din too far. He lays a careful hand on Din’s chest and fancies he can feel Din’s heartbeat through his skin. Din sighs and turns his head to Cobb, a wealth of gratitude in his eyes that makes something in Cobb’s heart fall open so suddenly and so hard that he feels winded.

Instead of trying to speak what he’s feeling he shows Din by leaning in to kiss him soft and sweet, building it slowly into something deep and lush. Din’s mouth is perfect against his again, just enough give and take for Cobb to have something to work with. One of Din’s hands presses over Cobb’s on his chest and the other finds its way into the hair at the back of his head, fingers restlessly stroking through the strands.

As the kisses grow deeper Din pushes at Cobb’s hand and Cobb takes the signal to start stroking over Din’s chest, feeling the slight softness over his abdomen and following the dark trail of hair down towards his cock. He doesn’t touch it straight away, just leaves his hand resting slightly above it and pulls back from a kiss to speak.

“Want you to know I’ve got all sorts of plans for what I want to do with you,” Cobb says, nudging their noses together and speaking against Din’s mouth. He gets distracted by Din’s tongue for a long moment before he continues his thought: “Tonight ain’t about that, it’s just the beginning of what we can have.”

“ _Cobb_ ,” Din sighs, tugging lightly at Cobb’s hair. “Please, whatever you want.”

“Yeah,” Cobb says, pulling back so that he can watch Din’s face as he takes his cock in his hand. Din’s eyes flutter shut on a long upstroke and his mouth parts on a gasp as Cobb rubs his thumb through the precome gathered at the head. The slide back down is slicker and Din’s eyes open again to look into Cobb’s. “Yeah, I gotcha.”

Din tugs him into another kiss as Cobb finds a simple, pleasing rhythm, Din’s hips hitching into the pull of Cobb’s hand on his cock. It’s everything Cobb’s wanted for months.

–

Two weeks after Jo had very nearly embarrassed Cobb to death Cobb and Din were sitting in the cantina, talking about converting one of the empty pre-fabs into an actual marshal’s office now that folk weren’t afraid of getting eaten by a dragon if they came out this way, when Cobb’s former armour walked through the door.

A crash of glass from the direction of the bar made it clear Cobb wasn’t imagining things. As did Din immediately standing, hand hovering by his blaster, and moving to put himself between Cobb and the other Mandalorian.

Cobb knew who this man was now, thanks to Din, and the name Boba Fett was well known enough that even the people of Mos Pelgo had heard it back when the Hutts owned Tatooine. There’d been a power vacuum after the Rebel Princess had strangled Jabba with her own chains (and hadn’t that been a nice thing to hear about when the news filtered out their way with traders) and there had even been a point where Cobb had half an idea about getting someone on Jabba’s throne that might be amenable to ending the damn slave trade for good.

That little escapade was something he’d not shared with Din yet and he was sort of grateful, considering. The news that Boba Fett had finally done for old Bib Fortuna and effectively put himself in charge had come from one the transport drivers who collected the products of Mos Pelgo’s mines a few weeks back. Stars knew what would have happened if he’d showed up at Jabba’s Palace to find Cobb in his armour and some little Huttling on the throne.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone, brother,” Fett held his hands up. “I have a simple proposition. And I wanted to thank the man who rescued my armour from the guts of a Sandcrawler.”

Din stared at Fett for a long moment, every line of his body tense in a way that Cobb shouldn’t have enjoyed seeing given it normally came before a fight, before turning to tilt a look toward Cobb, asking a question.

“I hear a Mandalorian’s word is as good as a bond,” Cobb said, directing the words at both of them before fixing his eyes on Fett and drawing some of his always banked fury to the surface to steel his voice. “But if you make trouble in this town I won’t hesitate.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Fett said with a slow nod of acknowledgment, one gunslinger to another.

“Have a seat,” Cobb said, reaching his hand up to wrap gently around Din’s wrist and subtly direct him back to his own seat. “Ishma’ll get you whatever you want.”

“Just water, please,” Fett said, crossing the cantina to join them. Cobb had to duck his head to hide a smile when Din didn’t sit until Fett did. It warmed him through when Din’s leg pressed firmly to his under the table, Din’s chair so close now that he probably would’ve been more comfortable in Cobb’s lap.

Now that was a pretty and inappropriate thought to be having in front of the man’s whose armour you’d worn for years without knowing. With a weary sound Fett reached up and lifted his helmet off, setting it to one side, as Ishma set a glass of water down beside him.

He looked older than Cobb had expected, but then he supposed he’d look like that too if he’d been swallowed up and spat out by a sarlacc. Fett took a long drink before pulling a kerchief from a pocket and wiping sweat from his bald head.

“I don’t know how you can still keep the helmet on in this heat,” he said to Din, shaking his head. “I feel like I was roasting alive in there.”

“You get used to it,” Din said and there was a tone in his voice that suggested he was offended by the very suggestion. Cobb hadn’t raised the question of why Din was still wearing the helmet if he felt he’d abandoned his Creed but it had been tickling the back of his mind for months.

With Din everything was about patience, though, little nudges to help him find his way to the humanity he had lost in his raising. The humanity he had just been rediscovering when the Jedi took his kid away.

“You said you had a proposition,” Cobb said when it became clear that neither Mandalorian was going to speak first. Fett’s eyes flicked to him and he felt like he was being weighed against something in the man’s mind. Cobb sat up straighter from his habitual slouch and tried not to start when he suddenly felt Din’s hand squeeze at his knee.

“I expect you’ve heard that I’ve taken over Jabba’s old empire,” Fett said, turning back to Din. Din’s hand relaxed on Cobb’s knee but didn’t move away as he nodded. “I didn’t take it because I want to keep it. I had a long time to think about my life and my father’s legacy when I was healing,” here Fett waved at the scarring on his face, “and although I love my father I don’t think his path in life was the best anymore.”

It was clear that it was difficult for Fett to speak against his father’s memory, his eyes staring somewhere past Din’s head before refocusing to take in both of them.

“I have enough rage in me to destroy Jabba’s empire and try and put something else in its place,” he said. “It’s not exactly going to be something the New Republic will like but they haven’t made any movement against the Hutts at all so I’m all that’s left. I don’t intend to do it alone, though.”

“You want me to work with you?” Din asked, obviously surprised, at the same time as Cobb blurted out, “Are you offering him a job?” They looked at each other and Cobb liked to imagine that Din had on the same kind of embarrassed smile he couldn’t help himself from making.

“Your old job, in a way,” Fett said, one side of his mouth ticked up in amusement as he looked between them. “But this time each of your targets will go toward making the Hutts hurt.”

Din became quiet at Cobb’s side and Cobb watched him openly, hoping he wasn’t showing on his face the mix of panic, worry, hope and affection he was feeling at the offer. He knew Din needed _real work_ , that shadowing Cobb would eventually not be enough for him, but he selfishly hoped that Din would refuse it to stay safe (for a given value of safe) with Cobb.

“I have a condition,” Din said after a long moment. Cobb’s heart skipped several beats and his chest tightened. Din’s hand squeezed at his knee again before sliding away with something dangerously close to a caress. “I work from here. This is my home.”

Cobb was almost certain his heart had stopped beating. He barely managed to stop his jaw from dropping. All he could do was press his leg harder against Din’s under the table in an effort to show something of what that meant to him.

“Of course,” Fett said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the galaxy. “I wouldn’t expect you to abandon your partner.”

That word again, with the same undercurrent everyone had been using since Din came back into Cobb’s life. Cobb felt Din tremble very slightly next to him and, _oh_ , Cobb had been an idiot so caught up in his own feelings to not even notice that Din was in the same sand skiff as him. He bumped his shoulder against Din’s and left it there, pressed against beskar plate. Din looked at him, he could feel it through the visor, and Cobb smiled small, nodding his encouragement.

“Where do you want me to start?” Din asked Fett. Fett grinned like a dune shark.

–

Cobb works Din’s cock steady and slow, watching Din’s face to see what he likes most, occasionally dipping to mouth over Din’s jawline, neck, shoulder. He scoots in closer when Din meets his eyes and moves the hand in Cobb’s hair to between his shoulder blades and presses. Cobb puts a leg over one of Din’s, encouraging him to spread a little, and presses the rest of himself all along Din’s side. Din shudders a little at the full contact, a quiet moan catching at the back of his throat.

“Cobb, Cobb, I want to -” Din cuts off as Cobb circles around the head of his cock for a moment, Din’s hips straining up into his hand.

“Shh, I know,” Cobb uses his free hand to turn Din’s head toward him, bends and kisses the corner of his mouth. “I know, sweetheart.”

Din’s hand on his back flexes and he feels the pinpoints of his fingers digging into the flesh there. Din’s other hand floats about as if he doesn’t know what to do with it and Cobb moves his own to catch it, threading their fingers together and squeezing. Din’s grip is like iron as his fingers flex against Cobb’s.

Cobb’s eyes flick from the slow slide of his hand on Din’s cock to Din’s face and back again; watching the flutter of his eyelids, the way he bites his own lip to suppress his little moans, the way his hips shift and lift for more friction, the leaking head of his cock and the tremors rippling across his abdomen.

“You just let me know when you’re close,” Cobb says, pressing a soft kiss against Din’s shoulder. Din seeks his eyes with a huff of disbelief.

“I’m always close around you,” Din says, arching up when the words cause Cobb’s hand to involuntarily tighten, his own cock giving a hard twitch in his unders.

“Fuck, Din,” Cobb says, unable to stop himself from briefly grinding against Din’s hips. “You’re a wonder.”

Din laughs a little breathlessly and moves his head so he can press his forehead against Cobb’s as Cobb starts moving his hand faster, tighter, over his cock, thumb sweeping over the head on every stroke. That touch definitely means something to Din, something Cobb is minded to ask him about one day.

“I’m,” Din gets out just before Cobb twists his wrist and circles the head of his cock intently and Din’s whole body snaps taut with his orgasm, coming on a long moan buried in his throat, as Cobb draws him through it, moving with him as Din’s hips snap up like he’s fucking into something, and Cobb will remember this forever.

Din taps his back with his hand when it tips over into over stimulation and Cobb releases his cock, smoothing a soothing hand over Din’s belly, avoiding the stripes of come. The hand on Cobb’s back goes back into his hair and Din uses it to bring Cobb in close for a series of slow, dragging kisses that set Cobb’s skin on fire.

–

The first bounty Fett had set for Din was time sensitive and would mean he needed to leave with Fett in his ship as soon as he was able. It frustrated Cobb no end because he knew now that he needed to tell Din what was in his head, what had been bubbling up in his chest for the past few (or more) months, and suddenly they had no time at all for it.

Cobb trailed Din collecting his gear, helped him with his cloak when it snagged on one the catches of a beskar plate, and walked with him to the edge of town where Fett’s infamous ship was waiting. It was an odd looking ship, really, and must’ve been real old, but it made Cobb wonder what Din’s ship had looked like and kinda sad that he’d never seen it.

“Well, I guess this is it,” Cobb said when Fett waved from the landing ramp and left them to their goodbye. Cobb scuffed the sand with his foot and hated the little empty ache he could already feel in his chest.

“It isn’t,” Din said, stepping fully into Cobb’s space and tipping his head up with a gloved finger under his chin. “It’s just work. I’m coming back.”

“Yeah,” Cobb said, staring into the visor and hoping he was looking Din in the eyes. “You said this was home.”

“It is as long as you’re in it,” Din said, his voice casual as he said one of the most romantic things Cobb had ever heard in his life. “I didn’t come here for the scenery.”

Cobb found himself speechless for the first time in a long while. As if sensing how off balance he was Din put a hand firmly on his waist and another on the back of his neck. Din leant forward and pressed his forehead against Cobb’s for a long moment and Cobb felt his eyes shut, just breathing in the shared space.

“This is the best I can do, right now,” Din said quietly, seemingly referring to their foreheads touching. Cobb’s hands came up to grip the sides of the helmet, not wanting to remove it, just wanting to feel it, willing Din to feel it like he was holding his face.

“I’ll take the best you can do whenever you offer it,” Cobb said, pulling back enough to lift his face and press a kiss above the visor of the helmet. “You take care of yourself out there. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“I know,” Din said, stepping back from Cobb. Cobb got the sense that Din was smiling under the helmet and he returned it, knowing he must look like a moonstruck eopie. Din walked to the ship and Cobb was reminded of how much he enjoyed just watching Din move.

Din paused on the ramp and looked back so Cobb raised his hand in a half wave, half salute. Din’s head jerked in a way which meant he’d just let out one of his huffs of laughter and Cobb cracked a smile, stepping out of range of the ship’s engines as Din walked up into it.

This time Cobb knew he’d be back.

–

When Din’s breath calms in his chest he turns a calculating look on Cobb that makes Cobb shiver with its focus. Din moves suddenly, rolling so that he’s on his hands and knees over Cobb, before lower his head to press hot, wet kisses against Cobb’s chest. Cobb arches under him as one of Din’s hands rubs over his cock where it’s straining against his unders.

“What do you want?” Din asks, looking up at Cobb as he drags his palm slowly over Cobb’s cock.

“Stars, Din, I’ll take whatever you want to give me,” Cobb says, pushing his hips up into that hot palm. Din runs so much hotter than him that he feels like he’s the focus of a sun close enough to touch.

Din hums under his breath and moves to pull Cobb’s unders off and toss them to one side. Cobb’s cock smacks back against his abdomen wetly and Din pauses to chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiles at Cobb.

“Eager,” Din says, moving so he can settle astride one of Cobb’s legs, pressing a thigh under Cobb’s cock and closing around Cobb’s torso with his arms.

“You haven’t seen yourself,” Cobb says, putting his hands into Din’s hair again for no other reason than that he can. “You’d be eager too.”

“Look who’s talking,” Din says with a roll of his eyes. “You know how good you look.”

“Can always stand to be told,” Cobb says, pulling Din’s head down to kiss him thoroughly for the compliment.

Din lowers his body with intent, shifting until Cobb’s cock can slide along the groove of his hip. Din is still wet with his own come there and Cobb’s cock smears through it, slicking its way, and it’s dirty and hot and perfect.

“Like this?” Din asks, rolling his hips against Cobb’s as Cobb works up against him. A gasp punches out of Cobb’s chest.

“Yeah, darlin’,” Cobb says, freeing his hands from Din’s hair and moving them down to grab at his ass. “Just like this.”

It’s not gonna take long, Cobb feels like he’s been hard for hours and taking Din apart had got half the job done for him. Besides, Din’s not the only one coming into this off a dry spell. Din watches him intently as if he’s trying to memorise every little moment that makes Cobb moan and shift against him. The rhythm of his hips is hypnotic and Cobb’s mind drifts slightly imagining that with Din inside him or, better yet, his cock in Din as Din works himself over it.

It’s that thought, coupled with a slow grind of Din’s hips, that has Cobb coming with a full bodied shudder, pushing up and up against Din. Din makes a shocky little gut punched noise and lifts enough to get one hand down between them to pull Cobb into aftershocks that make his head spin and his blood roar in his ears.

Cobb rolls them over so Din’s underneath him and kisses his way into Din’s mouth, stroking their tongues together as he shakes through the last pulses of his orgasm. Din gentles him with a hand that strokes from the nape of his neck down to the crest of his ass and back again and Cobb finds himself sinking into the embrace, trapping Din’s other hand between them.

“Good?” Din asks, the slightest of edges in his voice betraying the nerves still just under the surface.

“Perfect,” Cobb mumbles, his whole body feeling heavy with satisfaction. 

Cobb wants to stay like this forever but knows from experience that they’ve got enough body hair between them to get stuck if they don’t do at least the smallest amount of clean up. As Din extracts his hand and loops his arms around Cobb’s waist, resting their foreheads together, Cobb’s finding it harder to care about hygiene.

They can have this. Give it five minutes and Cobb’s pretty sure his legs won’t even go out from under him if he tries to stand up.

“Stay with me?” Din asks and it’s only the slightly hesitant note in it that makes it more than a question about staying in bed. Cobb feels his heart skip a beat in his chest. It’s a big question and neither of them can speak to what the future holds but -

“As long as you want me,” Cobb says, cupping Din’s cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss warm with feeling to his lips.

Whether that’s a month or a year or a whole lifetime it’ll be more than enough for Cobb.

–

It took an hour for it to really settle in that Din wasn’t there for the first time in months. Cobb had gotten so used to his presence that he found himself constantly turning to look for his reaction to something and felt a pang of disappointment when he remembered.

_It’s fine_ , he kept telling himself. _It’s fine._

Din commed him briefly before he left Tatooine, told him how long he thought he’d be and what Cobb should do if he was longer than that. It made it more real that Din was going back to work but, more importantly, he was intending to come back. It eased a little of the worry in Cobb’s heart.

Three days of the townsfolk looking at him with sympathy every time he turned to share a joke with someone who wasn’t there was about enough to drive anyone mad. Cobb had always known he was gone for Din from the moment they met but it was the townsfolk that had seen they were equally as gone for each other and he couldn’t resent them for that.

By the time Din commed him that he was back, that he’d be landing in Mos Pelgo in his own ship bought and paid for by the bounty Fett had sent him after, Cobb had had more than enough time thinking about his feelings to know exactly what he wanted to say to Din when he landed.

Cobb stood on the outskirts as the ship swooped down in a lazy arc over the town, its wings moving from pointing behind the ship to line up on either side of the cockpit and making something like a U shape if you squinted. Kinda ship popular with the Rebellion, Cobb reckoned.

The ship settled at last and after a moment a door on the side of the hold slid open and Din hopped down, the door sliding shut behind him. Cobb found himself cataloguing everything about him as Din walked toward him – Din was walking normally, no sign of injury, and the beskar armour was still holding its polished shine, his cloak wasn’t torn and he’d returned with the same complement of weapons as he’d left with.

Before Cobb could even get out a word Din was crowding into his space and pressing their foreheads together and Cobb’s breath caught in his throat. Din’s hands found their home on his waist again and Cobb mirrored his actions of a few days ago by putting his hands on either side of the helmet to hold Din there.

“Can we go home?” Din asked, and there was something there, some undercurrent thrumming in his tone, that went straight to Cobb’s centre.

“Of course, partner,” Cobb said, holding him for a moment longer before stepping out of the embrace.

They walked back to Cobb’s house - _home Din had called it_ \- and Cobb almost started three separate conversations but every time he tried the words died in his throat. He was just too damn happy to have Din back at his side where he belonged.

“Why don’t you hit the ‘fresher,” Cobb said when they reached the house. “I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“I’d like that,” Din said quietly as they entered. Cobb turned to watch him cross the room and it was like he could see Din visibly relaxing with each step across the floor. His smile was probably embarrassingly lovestruck.

Cobb stood in the kitchen staring at his cupboards in frozen indecision for a long moment after the ‘fresher door closed behind Din. All the pretty little speeches he’d been thinking of had gone out of his head as soon as he had the reality of Din in his sight again. Maybe it’d be easier just to show Din how he felt, they both seemed much better at that than talking about the thing that had been building between them.

Cobb was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear Din enter the kitchen behind him, or notice him at all until Din’s hands came to rest on his hips from behind. Din’s forehead touched the back of Cobb’s neck and Cobb could feel his warm breath against his back.

_Din’s forehead touched the back of his neck_.

“ _Din_ ,” Cobb grasped at Din’s hands where they were holding onto him.

“All I could think about,” Din said, his head moving slowly up, his nose dragging against the skin of Cobb’s neck until his mouth was hovering at his nape, “waiting for the bounty to surface was how much I wanted you to see me. I need you to see me, Cobb.”

“I can look?” Cobb asked, fingers tightening on Din’s hands when Din’s lips pressed gently at the base of his neck.

“You can look,” Din confirmed, his breath causing the fine hairs on Cobb’s neck to rise.

Cobb turned slowly in Din’s hold, eyes cast down until they were fully facing one another. He looked up slowly, smiling to see that Din had changed into the soft clothes donated by the townsfolk he’d started wearing around the house after a month or so. With a soft exhale he raised his eyes to Din’s and felt whatever was in his heart must be showing on his face because Din’s mouth ( _his mouth!_ ) curved up into a small smile.

“Well look at that,” Cobb said, lifting a hand to run his fingers through surprisingly messy brown curls of hair. “There’s something I could look at for the rest of my life and die happy.”

Din rolled his eyes, his eyes were so _expressive_ , and huffed out a laugh. He leant into Cobb’s hand as he brought it down to his cheek, trailing a thumb over a cheekbone just to feel his skin.

“I’d like to kiss you,” Cobb said, tilting his head down a little to hold Din’s gaze. Their slight height difference was more obvious without the helmet and that’d take some getting used to.

“I’d like you to,” Din said, his hands sliding to the small of Cobb’s back and pulling him in closer.

“I might do that then,” Cobb said playfully, angling to earn another of those smiles he was quick coming addicted to. He was rewarded as Din let his head drop slightly before pushing up a little to press their foreheads together.

“It’s...been a while,” Din whispered, a small confession between them. “Since I’ve been with someone. And never like this.”

“That’s alright,” Cobb lowered his voice as well. “Been some time for me too. But we won’t do anything more than you want to do.”

“I know,” Din said, drawing back to meet Cobb’s eyes again with a half smile curling up his cheek. “That’s why I want to.”

“Think I might kiss you now,” Cobb said, swallowing around a sudden lump of feelings in his throat. Din began to open his mouth to say something and that’s when Cobb ducked in, catching Din’s lips with his own. Din made a muffled noise against his mouth then leaned into the kiss, mouth shifting, sliding until they came together perfectly.

Cobb moaned lowly at the first swipe of Din’s tongue to open his mouth and suddenly Din was crowding him back until he hit the wall behind him. Cobb’s hands went straight to Din’s head to hold him in place as the kiss deepened, Din stealing his breath away.

Stars, but Cobb loved this man and now he was going to use ever chance he had to prove it.

**Author's Note:**

> Jabba's Palace after Din has left -
> 
> Fennec: So how did it go?  
> Boba: I think they literally realised how much they want to fuck each other while I was offering the job.  
> Fennec: *eyeroll* Men.
> 
> (A note on the Weequay bartender's name - Weequay were named after Queequeg from Moby Dick. Ishma - Ishmael, as in "Call me Ishmael".)


End file.
